


our love inked on my skin

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [15]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, fluffy fluffy fluff, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Hermann's first tattoo





	our love inked on my skin

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon prompt of the same

Tattoos aren’t anything new for Hermann, in the abstract sense, at least; Newt has them in vibrant bursts on his arms and covering his torso, and Hermann’s seen him without a shirt plenty of times to have grown used to them. Bastien has a small one on his shoulder, and Karla has a spray of dark-inked birds flying up her back, and Hermann accompanied the both of them for each.

But he has none of his own. It’s never seemed worth it—first, in university, he’d been afraid that it would undermine what little sense of authority he’d managed to accumulate, and then, later, during the war, there was simply never any  _time_ , not for proper sleep or proper massage techniques for his leg, and certainly nothing so frivolous as a tattoo.

So, when Hermann says, “Do you know of a good tattoo parlour anywhere nearby?” Newton’s reaction is, all things considered, understandable, if unfortunate. 

In his surprise, he drops the plate he’s holding, sending the jello crashing to the floor, the porcelain shattering, and Hermann yelps in surprise. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Newt apologizes, doing his best to mop up the mess, “sorry, I was just—surprised.”

“Well, next time be surprised on the lawn,” Hermann grumbles, “I liked that plate.”

“Sorry,” Newt apologizes again, finally getting the last chunk of jello up and into the waste-bin. He holds his arms out, offering an embrace, and, despite huffing, Hermann accepts and melts against his warmth. “I just—I dunno, I didn’t expect  _you_ of all people to ask where you can get a tattoo.”

“Hmm,” Hermann murmurs, “well, I wasn’t, not really, not—before.” They both know what he means; the meeting of minds, as it were, and the Drift’s left behind a bit of the other in each of them. Horrifically romantic, if one looks at it in a certain light. 

Newt rubs his back, presses his cheek to Hermann’s. “So, what are you thinking of getting done?”

“I…” he pauses. “I was thinking, perhaps, an outline of the Berlin skyline—it’s where we first met, after all, and I, well…” he trails off, slightly embarrassed. He’s horridly nostalgic, really, but Newt pulls back, eyes shinning.

“You…you,” he drags a hand across his eyes, lets out a slightly wet laugh. “God, Hermann, that’s—”

“Where we first met, yes,” Hermann says, blushing.

Newt pulls him back into a bone-crushing hug, buries his face in Hermann’s shoulder. “That’s fucking romantic,” he says, slightly muffled. Hermann clings back, presses his lips to the top of Newt’s head, letting the warmth heat his skin.

“Regardless,  _do_ you know of any good tattoo parlours?” he asks, and Newt laughs against his neck.

“Yeah, dude, of course I do, what do you take me for?” he asks, mock-offended. They spend the next hour discussing pros and cons of various tattooists and Hermann draws a preliminary sketch, Newt pressed against his side on the sofa. 

* * *

Three weeks later, Hermann’s laying on his stomach on the very same sofa, slightly regretting every life-choice he’s ever made that lead to this. While the initial pain wasn’t too bad—his leg’s been worse at times—right now, the itching is driving his crazy.

According to the tattoo artist and Newt, it’s to be expected, but he’d expected…something else. Not this, where his skin feels like it’s both too tight and being stung by bees, repeatedly.

Thankfully, it’s the weekend, but still, it’s awful. He lets out a defeated groan, and Newt somehow hears, appearing at his side within minutes. “Do you want me to rub some of the ointment on?” he offers, hovering by Hermann’s side, and Hermann gives an affirmative hum.

“Right, I’ll be right back,” he promises, and Hermann tries to get comfortable.

It’s not the most uncomfortable thing he’s ever endured, and he doesn’t regret getting it, but it’s a hassle, and a pain. Thankfully, Newt is an experienced, attentive boyfriend, so.

The cold of the ointment on his bare back makes him shiver, and he lets out a small hiss of pain when Newt accidentally touches a particularly sore area. “ _Careful_ ,” he reproaches, and, with a murmured apology, Newt returns to spreading the ointment over his shoulders.

The relief is almost instant, and Hermann lets out a sigh of relief, eyes fluttering shut as Newt works the gel-like substance across his skin. The initial coldness is gone, replaced by a soothing coolness.

“Thank you, Newt,” Hermann murmurs, relaxing against the cushions.

“Hey, man it’s no problem,” Newt reassures, “it’s totally no biggie. I’ve gotten, like, forty, and every single one gets me like this. It’s nothing to do with you.” Newt knows exactly what to say to dismiss the creeping thoughts of weakness, of course he does—he’s been in Hermann’s mind, seen how he beats himself up over mistakes and perceived fallacies and weaknesses.

“Thank you,” Hermann says again.

Once he’s done, Newt helps Hermann to his feet, brushes the stray hairs away from his face. “I love you so much,” he says, presses a soft kiss to Hermann’s lips, and Hermann smiles. “Let’s get you to bed,” Newt suggests, “c’mon, I promise sleep helps.”

“Oh, so this is simply and elaborate ruse to get me to sleep, then?” Hermann teases, and Newt winks.

“Got it in one, Herms. Come on, lets go.”

Hermann laughs lightly. “Alright, alright, I’m coming, darling. You’re so pushy.” 

Newt grins, grabs his hand in his own. “But you love me anyway, right?”

“I love you anyway,” Hermann agrees.


End file.
